Mysterious Happenings: Tale of the Serpent
by Novelist-In-Training
Summary: It seems that Karma does come back to you, no matter what you do and what you learn. Deep in her catatonia Narcissa see's nothing not even her own son and Draco is left to regret his past actions. He thinks of love then and now and how lonely life can be.


Mysterious Happenings: Tale of the Serpent

**I do not own the characters in this fic but I own the plot. If you want to complain don't because I honestly do not give a damn. I don't enjoy being flamed so try not to do that after all, this is a story that has nothing to do with the actual story line and thus is unimportant. So those that don't like it and get their panties in a twist get off the page, get over it and move on, those who like it, well that makes you a likable person in my book and hey, drop a review. Thanks for taking the time to read this and the story.**

**This is part two more importantly it is Draco Malfoy's own story continuing almost immediately after "Tale of the Two-Faced Warrior". Just to give you some advice so that you do not go into reading this and come completely surprised by his Out of Character personality, keep in mind that everyone has changed since the war six years before. This wont be incredibly action packed and more or less internal monologue of his life after the war.**

**It will explain his thoughts, feelings and hopes for himself and his ever failing in health mother who has lost her self in deep catatonia over the loss of her husband. The story will involve the stories of others such as what happened to Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabine and other classmates though Crabe and Goyle will not be mentioned at all. Why? Well, because it is too painful for him to even remember them though, only one of that pair died.**

**ALSO…this is M rated for very mature themes, there is sexual content though it isn't too descriptive but descriptive enough to make anyone blush. I hope that wont be a problem.**

**So now that I have concluded this bit of an authors note I hope that you enjoy what I have concocted.**

**-Eiri**

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I hadn't been to this house in a long time as it was too haunting to be home though it did look quite a bit like it. The two long pillars at either side of the tremendous white doors were covered in dark ivy all the way up to the top and I could smell the fragrant flowers from the garden just out back. "Oh it's the young Mister Malfoy come to see his mother today!"

"Hello Ms. Nancy, how are you and mother this fine afternoon?" I asked as the small African American woman moved to the side, enough that I could enter the threshold and immediately stepped onto the plush thick Asian carpet. It was not one from the many that we had in the manor home which lay abandoned. This was one that Granger and Girl Weasley had picked up from some sort of sale thinking it quite the gift for this new home.

"Oh she's doin' fine Mister Malfoy, jus' fine." Ms. Nancy said with a smile on her dark face. It always surprised me how warm her smiles were and how kind she could be and how much like a mother she felt, though I doubted she had any children. She was of small stature and was a bit rounded and her eyes were a lovely light shade of honey. Her voice was low but rich and her thick accent made it all the more lulling. "You come here an' let me get a good look at ya. You aint been home in almost three months."

"I'm fine Ms. Nancy," I implored though I did step just a bit closer so that she could better inspect me, letting her eyes trail my lithe form stopping at my scarred hands and then the one on my face. It went across my nose and was thick with scar tissue looking all the more hideous but she often said it was distinguished.

I did not think so.

"So, Ms. Nancy how is my mother?"

"Oh she's doin' jus fine, like always." She said with a smile. "I jus put her to bed a minute ago the poor thing was so tired."

"How can you tell? She doesn't speak."

"Oh, I been with her these past three years or so. I know the lady like the back of my hand. But enough of that now, you hungry?"

I shook my head though I knew that was futile as of course, I would find myself in the kitchens with Raymond, the cook singing the soothing songs of his country while Collette attempted to talk to Little Nettie in French.

And that is where I found myself exactly, sitting at the long table where meals were usually prepared sitting amongst the help with Nettie, Raymond's young child, sitting in my lap. I twisted one of her dark curls around my finger marveling at its smoothness though she didn't mind.

She was four years old, a tiny waif of a thing with her thin tanned limbs covered in thick pants and sweaters, usually. Her bright green eyes were always teary as though she was always laughing though I had never heard a laugh come from her lips. I could remember when she and her father had come just two years before for work, Raymond's wife Olga, had been alive then and was the prettiest woman I thought I had seen. Three dark faces with warm smiles, and I was enamored by their heart and the stories of Portugal.

" Oh, mon amour, I thought I was you favorite." Collette, the pretty gossamer haired maid said with a pout. Little Nettie gave her a dimpled smile but said nothing and Collette colored slightly at the cheeky smile I gave her. "Monsieur vous me vexez! _(Sir you vex me!)_"

"My apologies, le bel. _(beautiful one)_" I apologized with a cheeky smile. Raymond laughed from his place at the stove and stopped for a moment, stirring the contents in the large pot. Collette brightly colored red.

"Oh you, Monsieur, are a flirt!" She tried to sound aghast but the smile in her twinkling blue eyes gave away the pleasure she got from my comment. I knew that tonight we would have what we usually had together and I winked.

"Stop flirting with my little one in your lap sir. It makes me nervous that she may grow up too fast." Raymond smiles the same dimpled smile as the child on my lap. He fills a bright orange bowl with the contents of the pot, a thick soup with bits of vegetables inside, and sets it in front of me with a cooling spoon beside it. "This should fill you to the brim, Sir."

I ate it greedily unaware even how much I had missed his cooking and the child's silent company and the comfort of Collette's warm breast. I had missed this tall white house with its Victorian architecture and ancient trees at either side, the flowering garden just about to spill over into an almost wild fashion. I had missed the view from my bedroom window of the expansion of the immense property. I had missed Ms. Nancy, the silent and kind overlord of the great house who cared for my mother. My mother, who could not speak, could not walk on her own volition. Struck dumb by grief of loss and stared right through everything.

I **had not** missed my mother.

Later that night I found Collette already waiting for me in my room, lying across the large four poster bed delicate and bare. Her creamy white skin was bathed in moonlight from the opened window and her blond white hair gleamed like bright star light like the patch of curly hair between her legs. She was watching me carefully as I removed my button down which I folded and draped over a chair close by followed by my trousers and underwear. Her blue eyes scanned hungrily at my bared body, eying every indent of muscle, the very slight curve of my thighs and longingly staring at the light moon shaped scars marring patches of my flesh. Finally her eyes landed on the part of me she most appreciated, lying there between my legs waiting for her to bring it to life like she so often did.

And I stepped forward and allowed her to do as she so wished, taking it into her hands I shut my eyes and let my thoughts wander into this bit of ecstasy. She and I, our agreement and the promise to go no further, ah yes that was what I was thinking of. Collette, pretty Collette writing to her husband who was back in France, the vagabond who had stolen her heart with a web of lies. The man she sent money to, the man that she so hated and would always hate for the rest of her days.

I imagined Collette's mother, Gabrielle De Cleve, an ancient wrinkled woman wasting away in the home of Collette's proud older brother Philippe who also demanded money from Collette because he took care of their mother. Yes, this young woman of perhaps twenty, I was not sure, had a horrible veracity and this I could give her, in these small moments where she was not Collette De Tristesse but merely Collette, a woman who in these trysts was happy.

Her nails trailed scratches up and down the expansion of my back, her long legs wrapped about my hips and she moaned heavily in my ears. I gripped at her creamy hips; let my hands trace her thighs, just a little higher until it trailed the patch of moist blond curls. I had her mewling for me, wanting me to continue my powerful thrust. And kindly I obliged, pounding senselessly into the small warm tight cavern given me. She was not the only one with an miserable reality; I needed to be comforted too.

"Monsieur…! Vous m'avez blessé! _(Sir you hurt me!) _" She shouted loudly in my ear and I pounded harder into her until she was incoherently shouting things in French in my ear and when her warm walls clamped around me did I hear her sigh and let myself fall into oblivion with her, emptying myself in that warmth. I wasn't afraid of this emptying; don't think that I had forgotten of the appropriate protection. Collette could not, if she tried, get pregnant.

Later, as we lay naked and regaining our breaths under the pale light she turned to me with a sigh. "Monsieur, you have not told me, how was your trip? Madame Granger says that you seldom called to tell her how you had been and Nancy has been quite worried."

I twisted her blond hair into one thick curl fascinated by the shine in it. I didn't look down at her as her head rested over my heart nor did I want to. I didn't want to look at her after this I didn't want to hold her nor acknowledge the fact that she was someone else's wife because then I would feel guilty and then I would think of Jessie, the American muggle waitress I loved so much and how this was unfair to her. Though, really how could it be unfair for Jessie, who did not even want me? Most of all I didn't want to answer this question.

"I had a fine time in Greece and lost myself in the ruins I saw there so much that I forgot to call anyone."

"Oh?"

"Yes."

She sat up slowly, leaning over me so that the tips of her breasts brushed my chest. I stared at the rosy pink nipples entranced by them and by the creamy expansion of the very slightly rounded white breasts and belly and the smoothness of her skin, its perfume mingling in my senses. Her small pale hand touched my cheek and her fingers traced the thick scar running across my nose. I was suddenly jealous of this man, this vagrant that had married her when she was so young. Albert De Tristesse, the lucky bastard that could call this almost sprite like woman, his wife.

I would like to have a wife like her and often had I imagined it. Living here with this woman, her mother taken care of living quietly here too and the happiness that finally I would know, this is what I thought of. **_'Ah yes, that would be wonderful. She would make you happy and both of you would have wonderful conversations and would always be filled with smiles.'_**But, I remembered the impossibility of this because she was married to this man she would not leave and her mother would never survive a journey here nor would she be happy with a divorce. The pride of the family name, _De Cleve_, was more important then her daughters happiness.

And I was in love with Jessie Clark not Collette De Tristesse.

Her lips descended to mine, she must have known my train of thoughts because the moment before she gave me such a look that told me _'if only' _before she kissed me with an opened mouth. Our tongues danced in an intense moment, hot and arousing of course before she pulled away with a smile on her round pale face.

**_Ah yes, if only, if only, if wishes were fishes…_**

"Goodnight Monsieur." She said after she dressed, and left my room.

**_…then the world would be a sea just for me._**

-

As I lay there, alone and naked, I thought back to all I knew of the people that had been nothing more then a passing light in my memories. I thought back to my schooling days and remembered the thick plush green comforter and the plush pillows. The many times I had taken girls to lay there with me, **_ah the days of my youth!_**

The young Hufflepuff girl that I had had my first time with, I had been in love with her for the longest time. I _think_ she is married to Longbottom.

I had been with Pansy and Blaise in Greece and while we romped around the place with all the vigor of the teenagers we had been it had been eerily quiet. Tense. Fake. I had not wanted to be there with them for too long but I was stuck with them until I remembered my mother and Granger and Girl Weasley who, if not for the almost daily visits from Granger would surely shrivel up and die in her bedroom.

Well, not now, not that she had met Michael Strode the young American man who looked like all too much like the forgotten savior of our past. And Granger and her son Sam…she was much too busy wasn't she?

It had never surprised me that she had had an affair with the man that had sacrificed his own life, this man that I had always known. He was attracted always to an intelligent mind and fiery spirit and these she did posses. I never imagined that they would have a child, however, that was the surprise and in my ire of the whole situation did I come to understand and care for her. It was all I could do for him, my godfather. I could watch over this child and the woman he had cared for. I won't say loved, as I haven't a clue if he loved her or not. Sex doesn't mean love, not always and perhaps it was just the once or twice.

Besides, he had always loved a woman named Lily, always since I was a boy and even before and often did he drift into his own memories and perhaps he fancied to think that if he would have made a different choice and chosen another path that he could have been with her. Though, she was dead and really it was silly to think on it now. Lily and Severus are both dead.

I wonder what my life would look like to the younger me, the boy who was selfish and idiotic and hopelessly in love with a girl who never allowed him to make their relationship known? I remembered the time that the war ended how I had gone to her and tried to hold her. She smiled at me beautifully and then walked away, walked away and never again did I see her, she did not come back to school. My letters were all sent back and I realized with a broken and heavy heart that she had decided to forget about me. It no longer mattered to her and it must have been too painful to even imagine being with me. I had lost my mother and my father and finally the girl that, for seven years I had always loved. And now, that I sit lay in this bed in the pale moon light I find that any bit of success that I have gained is nothing. I have lost too much and gained only insight and a sense of humanity.

And I did not want it, not one bit.

A tapping at the window startled me and quickly I stood and walked towards it seeing an owl I did not know waiting for me with a letter. As I took it I gave the brown bird a soothing stroke, smooth silk beneath my fingers.

**_'Draco, _**

**_ My name is Michael Strode, I guess you won't recognize me not really, but I need you to understand and steadily I find my thoughts going to you and the phantom memories that plague me from earlier days. I need to remember this savior this shadow of myself and in order to remember I need to know you and to know what you know. As NOBODY, I have no basis of understanding anything and I feel it in my heart, if I have one, that you are someone who can help me._**

**_By no means think that this is a trick. It is to my understanding that we did not get along well enough to be friends in this past life of sorts. It is entirely too early to even hope that we can be friends though I hope that maybe we can. I need your help. Send word as soon as you can._**

**_ -Michael'_**

But maybe I could find a purpose. Surely there must be something out there for me and as I fold the paper in my hands and begin to write a letter in reciprocation, I smile to myself and the old feeling of cunning returns only this time it is for perhaps the right reason. He wanted to be friends and it felt like a weight was lifted.

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**_ TO BE CONTINUED IN ANOTHER…STORY_**


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